


Elementary, My Dear Bodt

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AHAHAHA, Detective AU, F/F, Horse detective, Jean is Sherlock, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Rating May Change, Sleepwalking, also gay stuff, and still a twat, freckled jesus, horse detective needs jesus, jeanmarco, little bit of ereri, look at these losers, lots of ships, mentions of child abuse, some homophobia in there too, there will be blood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3390917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rather confusing and pathetic tale in which a detective horse falls hopelessly in love with a used-to-be paramedic who can be nothing other than a freckled Jesus sent from the heavens.</p><p>Or, the story how a broken Marco Bodt meets an equally broken Detective Jean Kirstein and how they somehow fit into each other's lives like they were always meant to. And together, they solve crimes.</p><p> </p><p>+Current Story Arc: 'A Study in Horses'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Study in Horses - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Eeeeeey there lovelies. Just going to say now, the story is heavily based on Sherlock (BBC) 
> 
> Especially this first story arc. The next arcs will probably be more original, but I wanted to get a feel for the characters first to get an idea where the story will go after this. 
> 
> So have a chapter! It was kind of hard getting an idea for Marco's character in this, but I think I like how he is coming along. Enjoy!

Another sleepless night. The ceiling was rough, white, but had what looked like sharp bubbles coating the surface of it. Marco had stood on his bed more than once to run his hand over the rough surface, it actually helped steady him if he woke from a nightmare or had been sleep walking again.

Marco let out a soft breath of hot air, forcing his eyes to open as he glanced at the angry red letters from his alarm clock beside his bed. It was about 8AM, he figured now was as good of a time as any to get up. Propping himself up on his elbow, he ran a hand through his thick black hair. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten a good night’s sleep. Before his ‘retirement’ that was for sure.

Suddenly feeling nauseous, Marco curled in on his stomach, resting his forehead on his knees. He had thought being a paramedic would be good, he didn't have a problem when he was studying for it. As soon as he started to train and eventually get hired, Marco quickly found out he didn't have the stomach for the job. He had seen too many people die, he had tried to hard to save them all. Yet in the face of death he was helpless. Marco had to resign after three years, after the incident. 

Marco rushed to the bathroom and continued to empty the little bit of food he had in his system into the toilet. He coughed violently, resting his head against the cool porcelain. Its been over a year, why did it still bother him so much?

Taking a couple minutes to settle, Marco eventually pushed himself up and wandered his way back to his room which had a desk on the far side of it. His one room apartment was more of a dorm room than anything else. He didn't have the money for anything else though. Flipping through the letters on the brown wood, Marco let out a sigh. He wouldn't be able to afford this place much longer, he hadn't been to work since his leave and the money had had was only so much.

Air. Perhaps a breath of fresh air would do the trick. He grabbed a dark blue scarf he kept in the top drawer of his desk and wandered out the door.

 

\-------------

 

It was a cool autumn day. Marco tightened his scarf around his neck. It wasn't terribly cold, but it was cold enough to justify the warm cup of cocoa that rested in his right hand. There was a grassy park by his apartment, Marco figured seeing the leaves change would be good for him. 

The path was pebbled with cracks, the cold dry air getting the best of it. He passed a park bench with a man sitting in it, though halted when he heard a familiar voice call out, “Marco? Marco!”

The freckled man turned on his heel, a bit surprised anyone would know him around here. He generally kept to himself. But lo and behold, there stood Connie! His face lit up, the cold didn't feel as harsh around a familiar face.

“Connie? Its been ages, how are you?” Marco inquired, keeping a smile on his face.

“Great! I got myself a girlfriend now. You would love her. How about you, I havent seen you since… Well…” 

Marco’s smile immediately fell, and he forced down some bile rising in the back of his throat. He didn't say anything immediately, and Connie took it as an opportunity to make it up to the taller guy, “never mind that. Hey! Lets go get some coffee, yeah? Talk about the good ol’ days when it was you and me against the world, eh?”

Connie was about the same age as Marco, mid twenties. He had tan skin with a buzzcut that showed a shadow of hair peeking from his scalp. Connie and Marco had gone to the same college, though while Marco was studying to become a paramedic, Connie had wanted to get more into medical science in the police branch. They had roomed together the whole time, and became the best of friends.

Marco had to bend down some under the weight of Connie’s arm, which had looped around his neck in a half-hug. Marco was silent, then decided that it would be good for him to go out so he gave Connie a small smile, “yeah, that would be great actually.”

 

\-----

 

“It is not humanly possible for someone to eat that much.”

“No joke though! I swear, the whole turkey, by herself!” Connie exclaimed, his hands flying up to further escalate his point. 

“This Sasha girl sounds terrifying.” Marco laughed, taking a sip of his new cup of cocoa. He had ditched his other cup of cocoa in the park trash when he finished it.

“Right? It is sooo hot.” 

Marco rolled his eyes and watched as Connie leaned back in his chair and gave a happy sigh. He was so glad that his friend had found someone, he deserved happiness. The freckled guy quickly snapped to attention when he realized Connie was staring at him. “What?”

“Eh. You seem tired, is everything alright?”

Marco sighed and leaned back in his own chair, “not really. I still have the nightmares, and I’m not going to be able to afford living where I am too much longer unless I find a job.”

“Why not get a flat-mate?” Connie suggested innocently. Marco shot him an incredulous look, surprised he would even suggest that. Through the years they had roomed together, it had not always necessarily been by choice. They never had a problem with it, mind you, but anytime Marco tried to room with someone else, they transferred because of his sleepwalking. 

He never did anything dangerous, but he was known to wander and sometimes stand at the foot of his roommate's beds. They didn't like that, and Connie was the only one who seemed to give less than a fuck.

“No one would want me as a roommate.” Marco drawled, leaning forward and resting his cheek on his palm. He glanced up to see Connie with the most shit-eating grin he had ever seen. “What?”

“Funny, you're the second person to say that to me today.”

 

\------- 

 

Marco wasn't sure why he agreed, but here he was getting dragged by the arm down the brightly lit hall of some sort of science morgue. Or whatever they called that place to research murdered bodies. Marco immediately shut out the little girl’s glazed eyes.

Connie pushed open a door into a science lab or sorts, and playfully kicked him in. Marco stumbled forward with a grunt and looked up. The only other person in the room was a man. Around the same age, it seemed, as himself. He had a thinner build than Marco, and looked to be a bit shorter too. The thing that grabbed Marco’s attention the most though was his hair. The man had dual colored hair, sandy blonde on the top half, while black around the rest of his head and down his neck.

It seemed though, that the guy’s eyes and attention were currently pressed against the eyepiece of the microscope. 

He gave them a half-hearted glance before his focus went back to whatever he was looking at. Marco felt Connie pat his arm and push him toward the obviously busy man, “This is Marco. The guy I texted you about.”

The man gave a noncommittal grunt and started to twist the turret to get a better look at, whatever he was looking at. He outstretched his hand towards the pair, “phone.”

Marco heard Connie beside him groan, “come on man. You know its almost dead, I don't want you guzzling up the rest of it.” 

Immediately reaching into his own jacket, Marco pulled out a simple black phone, and placed it in the rather grumpy man’s open hand. His fingers snapped around it, and he finally pulled his attention away from the microscope. He narrowed his amber eyes at the phone, examining it closely before shrugging and typing away on it.  
“How long did you work?”

Marco was a bit taken aback, was he asking him? “What?”

“How long were you a paramedic?”

The freckled man couldn't be any more surprised. He checked his clothes, no he didn't have anything on that said he was a paramedic. Shooting Connie a look, the bald man gave a grin and nodded. 

“U-uh, three years.” Marco stared at the man curiously, a bit confused. How did he know he worked as a paramedic? “How-”

“Easy,” he waved, giving Marco a wide grin, “you are alert and focused on everyone around you, constantly aware of their vital signs. Your hands don't shake, not even the normal mild tremors that everyone has, they are as still as a surgeon’s. You don't wear any sort of jewelry, not even a watch to avoid it getting caught in something. You face is drawl, bags under your eyes from nights woken or little sleep. You suffer from some form of post traumatic stress disorder. Perhaps you had seen something on the field that was too much, perhaps you had gotten hurt yourself. But you don't appear to be nursing anything, which even if you were no longer in pain would do anyway due to the trauma associated. So, you saw something happen. You quit after that, but I cannot say how long you had worked as one.” He gave a snort, “plus you look like the type of little shit that would become a paramedic to help people, but realize you don't have the stomach for the shit that is involved.”

Marco was floored, to him they just seemed like random little tidbits of knowledge. How could he piece that together like some sort of wizard and come to the conclusion he had been a paramedic? “Incredible.” Marco found the word slipping out of his mouth before he even had time to think.

The oddly hair colored man blinked, then squinted at him suspiciously. After a couple minutes he gave a grin and typed a bit more on the phone before standing and throwing on his coat. It was long, and frankly looked a bit over dramatic, but Marco wasn't one to judge. The man gave his phone back and headed to the door.

“Th-thats it then?” Marco found himself asking, “are we going to move in?”

“Of course.” He snarled, acting like he was talking to someone who should obviously know better.

“But, W-we don't even know eachother, much less our names! Hell, I dont even know where the place is!” Marco exclaimed, shoving his phone back in his black cargo jacket.

The man paused by the door, then shrugged and pulled it open with a swift tug. “The name is Jean Kirstein, and the address is 535, Maria.” Jean gave the confused man a wink before slipping away.

Marco stood there, still not entirely sure that this whole situation had happened. He gave a glance to Connie, who seemed more impressed than anything. 

“Well, would you look at that… He likes you.”


	2. A Study in Horses - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: [Blank Space - Taylor Swift Music Box Version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvFBPUJoExM)
> 
> Enjoy Krista's chapter!

Marco sighed, adjusting the straps of his backpack carefully. The room was completely barren now, though it wasn't like Marco really had a lot of things anyway. Most of his stuff was sold for more money prior, to live in this tiny place. Still, Marco was going to miss it.

He made sure to double-check everything, he was set. So with a small handgun tucked into the back of his pants and a bag of his only belongings, he trudged down the stairs and outside. Marco lifted a hand to block out the suddenly harsh light, sometimes he forgot just how dim his apparent was. Now, all he needed to do was call a cab and… Marco stopped the train of thought rather fast when he noticed none other than Jean outside leaning against a cab.

The detective glanced up and offered some sort of smirk when he noticed him, “I already called a cab since I figured your broke ass couldnt get it.”

Marco scowled at him, “ _you are too kind_.”

Jean’s eyes widened a bit at the venom from his new flat-mate and cleared his throat, though seemed to think second of this and scoffed before scrambling into the back of the cab. Marco raised a brow, before rolling his eyes and slipping in himself.

The cab was nice enough, though it smelled terribly of mothballs. Marco couldn't tell if that was the actual cab or Jean though. He hoped it was the cab, he hated the smell of mothballs.

Surprisingly it seemed Jean didn't live that far away, in about fifteen minutes they were there. Jean handed the cabbie some cash before slipping out and scurrying to the door like a rabbit that could smell a predator nearby. _Was he nervous_? Marco thought idly as he thanked the cabbie and slipped out of vehicle himself.

Marco took a moment to look the place over. It looked to have three floors, and seemed to be of a pretty big size. Did he own all of it? The door was painted black with gold lettering giving it’s number, 535 M. Marco figured the ‘M’ was for Maria, the street they were currently on.

His attention shifted to Jean who had his hand on the doorknob, though instead of opening it, he was peering at Marco suspiciously. The freckled man raised an eyebrow at that, to which Jean quickly opened the door and gestured for Marco to come in.

Jean lead the way up to the second floor, unlocking it and pushing it open. He patiently waited for Marco to go in first before following suit.

It was a pigsty. Good lord. Everywhere there was something, hardly any floor space! Crates were overflowing with papers, and were stacked on anything possible. There were also empty mugs scattered about too, coffee perhaps? A tornado must have happened in this room, no other possible explanation.

He stepped around what he could cautiously, and peeked into the kitchen. He needed to get this guy on an episode of ‘Hoarders’. The table was piled with tons of science equipment Marco had never seen the likes of before, and a jar of- _where those thumbs?_ Human thumbs?! Marco was definitely having second thoughts about moving in with this guy.

Jean seemed to notice Marco’s discomfort and cleared his throat, “I could tidy up a bit.”

“ _Thumbs_?” Marco squeaked incredulously, looking at the detective over his shoulder with a mix of surprise and confusion.

“Its for an experiment.” He shot back with a bit of a snip.

Marco wasn't sure why, but he started laughing. This guy was experimenting on human thumbs! Jean was clearly taken aback and shuffled to the kitchen, grabbing the jar of thumbs and stuffing them away in a cabinet above the sink. He looked like a kid that had gotten caught stealing cookies rather than an adult who experimented on thumbs.

“Knock, Knock?”

Marco’s laugh quickly died down as he moved from the kitchen to the front door. There stood a small woman, she was even shorter than Jean, with angelic blond hair and clear blue eyes. She smiled cheerfully at Marco, though an irritated groan from Jean could be heard in the kitchen.

“You must be Marco, hello. I’m Krista, your landlady.” She let herself in and ducked past Marco, clicking her tongue like a scolding mother. “Jean, you knew he was coming today Dear. You could have picked up a bit more.”

Shuffling was heard in the kitchen, followed by Jean popping his head out from the corner and glaring at Kirsta. Shortly after his head disappeared from sight and the rummaging was heard in the kitchen again.

Krista let out a gentle laugh and brushed some papers off of an old worn blue chair. It had a green plaid blanket folded over the back of it, and directly across from the chair sat a warm leather chair that seemed to be brand new. Krista ushered Marco to sit in the older blue chair and patted his head. “There, you shouldn't have to help him clean. It was his own fault for not doing it sooner.”

Jean appeared from the kitchen then with a pout and flopped himself down on a couch that was pressed against the opposite wall. He gave a snort to further push his rebellion against Ms. Krista. The blonde giggled and brushed off her pink sundress. “Well, is there anything you would like, Marco?”

Surprised, Marco smiled shyly, “no thats-” “Coffee, black, for me.”

Krista rolled her eyes, “I’m _not_ your housekeeper, Dear. I was asking Marco.”

Jean snorted again and rolled onto his side facing away from the other two. Marco chuckled and pushed himself to his feet, “can you show me where everything is? I’ll make the grump his coffee.”

“Marco you are a sweetie. Here,” she gestured for him to follow, “he keeps the coffee maker on the counter here all the time. Though the pot is up here and then the coffee mix is kept in the freezer.”

Marco beamed at Krista, she seemed like such a lovely woman. He began working on the coffee, and glanced over his shoulder when he heard a chair being pulled out from the table. Looked like Jean valued coffee over pouting.

“Oh! Marco, there is a space room upstairs. I-if you’ll be needing two rooms of course.” Krista mentioned, pouring water in the back of the coffee maker.

Jean spoke up, “ _of course_ we’ll be needing two.”

Krista giggled again, “oh come now, we get all sorts around here and you know it.”

“Yes well. We will use the second room. “ Jean snapped, then seemed to be aware of both of the other’s eyes on him because he quickly flushed and looked away, “nOT THAT THERE IS ANYTHING WRONG WITH BEING GAY.”

Marco couldn't help it and laughed again, rubbing his ears a bit from the sudden shout. Jean, he decided, was overdramatic. Very over dramatic. He glanced at Krista who seemed to have been more startled at his shout, but by now had relaxed some.

“Inside voices children, we don't want to wake up the rest of the block.” Marco hummed, watching as the coffee began to drip down from the maker now. He bit his lip to hold back the snicker that was threatening to spill out when he heard Jean babble angrily behind him.

Jean’s wallowing came to a screeching stop when there was a sharp bing filling the air. Marco turned and leaned against the counter as the detective fished out his phone and looked down at it. Marco honestly thought he had just won the lottery or something, because his face lit up like the Fourth of July.

He leapt from his seat, “no time for coffee! There has been another dead body!” And with that, he was gone.

Marco wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to react to that one. He looked down at Krista, who gave a soft sigh and shrugged her shoulders. “He is very passionate about his work.” She offered, then patted down her dress again, “well, I best be getting on now then? I’ll scold Jean later for leaving you on such short notice, he has the worst tunnel vision.”

Offering a reassuring shrug, Marco walked her out of the flat. Turns out she lived downstairs, and she was sure to remind him of that when she had gotten to the base of the steps. Marco huffed and turned back inside, closing the door behind him.

His brown eyes scanned the room, now what? He wasn't sure what to do with himself, it certainly didn't feel like a home yet and he could hardly shuffle anywhere without stepping on something that was possibly important. Maybe he should settle into the new bedroom.

Before Marco could start his grand shuffling adventure, the door swung open once more. It would be a lie to say he wasn't surprised to see Jean there, half in the door and half out.

“Wanna see a dead body?” He asked hurriedly, the words tumbling out of him before he was aware of them, it seemed, given by the slightly worried expression he had afterwards. An awkward stillness filled the room.

“You realize I left being a paramedic so I wouldn't have to see anymore dead bodies?” Marco was the first to break the silence, arching his left brow.

Jean was quiet for a moment, then spoke up again, “yes but you were trying to save them. This one’s already dead.”

“... You’re kidding, right?”

“You would be doing something important again.”

Marco let out a sigh through his teeth, he had a feeling he was going to regret this, but he grabbed his scarf and jacket, “fine.”

Jean gave him a cocky grin and flew down the steps and outside again. Marco was fairly sure he had just jumped the whole thing, but he also remembered a kid who tried once and shattered his kneecaps.

  
The man groaned _, what had he gotten himself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What nerds. 
> 
> Now is a good time for the next chapter, right? I've had this done since I posted the first, but I don't want to get over excited and post too much. 
> 
> Of course I have the third chapter already done because, you know, college is for shoobs.  
> I'll probably post it on friday or saturday.


	3. A Study in Horses - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An oven mitt a day keeps the burns away.  
> No chapter song this time, sorry guys!
> 
> Feel free to check out my [Tumblr](http://instantpuppypaper.tumblr.com)!

The cab smelled of mothballs again. Though he reasoned it was better than having to walk all the way to where they were going, Marco never really liked wandering around at night. The air between Marco and Jean settled into an uncomfortable silence at best. Frequently out of the corner of his eye, Marco would see Jean watching him. While curious, the ex-paramedic decided to leave it be for now.

The driver stopped behind some police cars with their lights on. Jean stepped out, Marco following suit. He took the time to get a good look at what was happening. Police cars had sectioned out an entire area in front of this old house. The house was a pale white, perhaps it had once been another color but now it was so blanched from the sun’s beating rays, one would never know. It looked like it had been abandoned for years.

Jean approached the police tape with confidence enough to display how many times he had done this, though was cut off by a man in some sort of white jumpsuit. The man was about Jean’s height with tousled brown hair and pretty green eyes. Marco hung back a bit after catching the snarl Jean gave to the man before him, “out of the way Jaeger.”

“Ugh, I can't believe Armin invited you _again_. We have the situation under plenty of control.” Jaeger growled back.

Jaeger snorted and turned his head in a scoff, only to pause on the freckled man behind Jean. He gave him the most confused look Marco had seen on someone in a long time. “Who the hell are you?”

“Marco Bodt.”

Jaeger squinted at him, “what, did the horse follow you home?”

Jean groaned and lifted up the police tape stretching between two police cars, “come on Marco, I don't want what little intelligence you have to be sapped away by this shit.”

Marco ducked under the yellow ribbon of plastic, unsure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. Jean had decided it was best to get a move on, and led the way up the cracked concrete path to the abandoned house. Behind him he could hear Jaeger speaking into a phone, mentioning ‘the horse is here’.

As they neared the splintered door, they were greeted by a surprisingly pleasant enough man. He had blond hair that was currently tied behind him in a sloppy ponytail and clear blue eyes, Marco immediately thought of Krista.

Though despite warm appearances, the voice that came out of the blond was nothing short of irritated and raspy, “who is this?”

“He’s with me” was the only response the blond got from Jean as he pushed his way into the house.

“This is a restricted area, Jean! You can't just bring people in from wherever because you feel like it.” The blond snapped, dismissing Marco for the moment.

“He is a retired paramedic, and with _me_. Drop it, Armin.”

‘Armin’ let out a loud groan, massaging his temples with rough calloused fingers. Marco desperately wanted to get away, feeling quite like a cockroach in a fancy resturant. He tensed a bit when Armin finally turned and regarded him carefully, before sighing and waving his hand for Marco to go trail after Jean. Though not before forcing him in a white jumper like the one Jaeger had been wearing outside, some sort of forensic suit apparently.

The floorboards resisted every step with a loud creak or moan. Inside the house had not fared any better than the front. Wall paper hung off walls in ribbons, all shriveled up like dried out like worms on pavement. The paint was chipped and worn, and some doors were just outright missing. Marco had to wonder if this was a druggie den, but not a trace of weed was to be smelled.

They walked down the long hall to an open room in the back of the house. It was a tired room, everything seemed lifeless, most of all the corpse in the dead center of it. Marco stayed by the doorframe, watching Jean stride up and peer down at the woman.

Jean circled her, then patter down her body, examined various pieces of jewelry on her and looked at her hands before straightening and turning to Marco. “Have a look, tell me what you see.” He offered, stepping to the side to give Marco some space as he walked over.

Marco squatted down next to her, eyeing the corpse suspiciously as if it would attack him. After being sure she wouldn’t move, Marco began to look at her hands and examined the rest of her. He opened her mouth, frowning slightly at the small amount of vomit that was still there. Possibly a bit of blood mixed in as well, but it was too old to tell right away. Marco trailed his hands down to her fingers, noticing the faint carving on the wood of some word that he didn't recognize. ‘Rache’? His fingers moved up and examined the color of her lips as well as eyes before glancing back up to Jean.

“Asphyxiation, probably from a drug of some sort judging by the vomit in her mouth. It looks like there was blood mixed in too, so the poison caused some form of internal bleeding… And she is certainly dead, probably for ten hours?” Marco replied, feeling rather proud of himself.

Jean rolled his eyes, “perfectly sound analysis, but was hoping for you to catch the important facts.” He held up her wedding ring, “she was in an unhappy marriage and is far from home, judging by her pale complexion. The rest of her jewelry is in great condition, except for this ring. The inside however is perfectly polished, from her taking it off so frequently, our lady corpse here seemed to enjoy sampling a platter of dicks quite often. She is wealthy, obviously, so she probably only stayed in the relationship for the money. Her coat is still damp, so is under the collar, meaning she turned her coat up against the rain. Where did it rain last? Downtown near the airport. She just got here, but didn't make it to her hotel. Why? She had to have been kidnapped, but she shows no bruises or signs of struggle, it was someone she knew or at least trusted. If it was a lover, he would have killed her at the hotel and dragged her here. But she died here, so who could it have been? The real question though is why ‘Rache’?”

“Incredible.” Marco beamed, he had no idea anyone could even be this brilliant. Sure he wasn't the brightest out of his class back in school, but he was no moron. Standing by Jean however made him look like a goldfish.

Jean stared at him, squinting suspiciously, “are you aware you say that outloud?”

It took a moment for Marco to realize that his fawning over Jean could be making him uncomfortable. He blushed and cleared his throat, “sorry, won’t happen again.”

“S’fine.” He replied quickly. Armin clearing his throat behind them caused both men to turn their heads and attention to the blond. “ _The dead body_ , lets try to keep our attention on that.”

“Rache, the Russian word for revenge. This could have been her husban-” Jean stood up and shoved his hand in Jaeger's face, mumbling a ‘thank you for your input, imbecile’. “Armin, get me all information you can on her history, including any lovers she may have had. Also, get me her suitcase.”

“There was no suitcase.” Armin hesitantly responded, eyeing Jean.

“Of course there was a fucking suitcase. You honestly think a woman of this level material dependency wouldn't have a suitcase?”Jean snapped, to which Armin gave a shrug. The detective groaned before shoving past Jaeger, “look for a suitcase! Has anyone seen a suitcase?!”

Marco pushed to his feet, watching Jean flee down the hall in search of the elusive suitcase. Jean could move fast when he wanted to, Marco shook his head and carefully pushed his way to the front, shimmying out of the white forensic suit Armin forced on him before stepping outside.

Where was Jean? Marco’s brows furrowed as he searched the area for the over dramatic detective, but found no trace of him. “He already left.” Marco nearly had a heart attack when Jaeger’s voice came from beside him.

“Wh-what?” Marco managed, still coming down from the scare.

Jaeger shrugged, “he always gets like this. Once he has an epiphany thats all he sees, the rest of us are just little obstacles in the way. Thats why he doesn't have any friends, can't be bothered to slow down for them.”

Marco was slowly catching up to the fact that Jean had just left him on the crime scene. Alone. Like an asshole. He sighed and brought his hand up to his forehead to run through his dark hair. Well, shit.

“Guess I gotta take a new cab home... “ Marco mumbled irritably, he couldn't believe that Jean would just leave him there! Was he truly that much of a problem?

“Hey, if you need the cash I can lend you some.” Jaeger offered, already unzipping his suit and fishing into his pants to retrieve a duct tape wallet.

“I… thanks Jaeger, I’ll pay you back.” Marco graciously accepted the cash and stuffed it in his own jacket pocket.

“Eren. Call me Eren and I’ll consider us even.”

“Eren?”

“Yup, its my name after all. Jean just calls me Jaeger because its my last name. And he is a royal dick, but I think you’ve figured that out by now.” Eren laughed, far more jovial than the first impression gave.

Marco was still a little wary, but thanked him again none the less and made his way down the street to a place where he could hail a cab. It seemed that he was invisible though as cab after cab had passed by him without a care in the world. Finally after twenty minutes, he managed to call one and get a ride back to Maria. Unfortunately this cab reeked of mothballs too.

Marco pulled his coat around him and leaned against the window, eyeing the driver silently. He was a middle aged man, slightly balding and seemed pleasant enough. Though something about him left a bad taste in his mouth, Marco kept that to himself though. He was probably just bitter from being abandoned at a crime scene by Jean.

They got to Maria shortly after, Marco handed the driver his pay and headed up the steps to the apartment. The door was already unlocked it seemed. He pushed open the door with ease and found Jean sitting on the leather seat, looking down at a bright pink suitcase that was resting on a coffee table he pulled from who knows where, in front of his chair.

Jean looked up and was immediately on his feet, “I’m not used to people with m-” “Its fine.” Marco briskly cut him off.

Jean’s brows furrowed, unsure what to make of that response, “it was rude.”

“Yes it was. I am going to bed now, I don't really feel like talking to you right now to be honest. I’ll see you in the morning.” Marco stated evenly as he headed upstairs. Marco always did his best to put his best foot forward and forgave others easily, but he never sugar coated things. If someone was being a dick, he told them they were and then would move along as if nothing happened. There is good in everyone, sometimes they just need a little wakeup call to bring it forward. Marco was sure of that.

Plus, he was tired. He stripped down to his black boxers and settled between the white comforter and sheets. They were surprisingly nice given the state of the apartment. Guess Jean never went in this room, which was fine by Marco. Gave him a place to escape the warzone that was the rest of the place.

 

\----------

 

Marco blinked the sleep out of his eyes, reaching up a hand to rub the crust out only to feel padding instead of his fist. After a few more blinks Marco realized he was in the kitchen. With oven mitts on his hands, and saran wrap on everything. He slipped off the oven mitts and laid them on the counter next to the stove, staring down at the plastic that was currently stretched across the dials to control the gas for the fire. The fridge as well as the cabinets were squared off with the saran wrap also, did he do that?

He wandered out of the kitchen, still not entirely sure what was going on. The room was cleaner now, less papers everywhere and not a mug to be seen. Instead there were balled up pieces of cloth tapped to edges of the tables and and anything that looked remotely sharp. _What?_

Eventually Marco’s gaze settled on Jean, who was perched on his leather chair, staring at him suspiciously. “You awake?”

A wave of realization hit Marco, he must have sleepwalked downstairs. He rubbed the back of his neck, “sorry. Forgot to mention I sleepwalked. I hope… I hope that doesn't creep you out.”

Jean shrugged it off, “no. Surprised me though, I did my best to ‘you-proof’ the area.”

Marco laughed jovially, “so you put oven mitts on my hands? And the saran wrap, that was you? The little cloth pieces too?”

The detective looked insulted at his laugh, though ended up cracking a small smile, “well I was unsure what sort of sleep walker you were, and I worked with what I had.”

“Aw, you _do_ care.” Marco teased, laughter still bubbling up from the back of his throat. Both from the sheer ridiculous state the apartment was in now, and the sheer joy that someone had actually done something to try and help. It wasn't much, but no one had ever really tried before. The action alone left Marco with a warm feeling in his belly.

Jean wasn't a bad guy after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is a go!
> 
> Now, chapter 4 isn't done yet, so it'll probably be a week or so before my next update! So you'll have to bear with me for a bit.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always loved!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Let me know what you guys think.
> 
> I'll post a song for each chapter to help set the mood of it too.  
> This chapter's song: Marco's Theme ( [ Link ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYUFa7yaQWw) )


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